January 1: New Year’s Day 5K
Official time: 34:29
March 10: Rock ‘n’ Roll Half Marathon
April 29: Pike’s Peek
This has been the Year of the Run for me—well, also the year of a lot of other bullshit too, but let’s not focus on that. So, yeah, let’s go ahead and call it the Year of the Run.
I averaged just under a hundred miles per month, which seems like not a lot considering I feel like I was running ALL THE TIME, but I guess if you run slow, like I do, you can run a lot and still not cover an enormous amount of distance.
My grand total of miles run in 2017 was 1,197.90 miles. I ran for 245-1/2 hours. I ran 217 times. I burned more than 187,000 calories.
Not so shabby.
I am also ending my year with a Thanksgiving to New Year’s running streak, meaning I have run every day over the past 39 days and will run a race tomorrow. When I’ve done this in the past, I’ve made my daily minimum one mile, but this year I decided to run at least a 5K every day, which I am happy to say I did. Most days I ran exactly 5K, but streaks don’t offer extra points for going the extra mile. (Literally.)
This year is also the year of my first marathon. Since they are so arduous, I decided to do two of them: Houston in January and the Marine Corps Marathon in October. I also ran three half marathons, including a half marathon PR in September. Add in eleven other races with distances ranging from 5K to 20 miles, and I had a pretty full calendar.
In a fun twist, Alex also had a Year of the Run. He ran his first ever races this year and I am disgruntled as hell to tell you that he has now officially surpassed me as the better runner in the family. He ran five races this year, each one a different length, which I think is kind of impressive. (5K, 5 miles, 10 miles, 10K, and 15K) He’s signed up for his first half marathon in March, although he has a pretty hefty work schedule between now and then, so I’ll be double impressed if he pulls it off.
I’ll be double impressed and bitter if he pulls it off in way better form than me. (I’m running it too.)
I feel great about what I have accomplished this year, especially in terms of endurance, but wasn’t quite sure where to go after this. I know that I want to work on speed and weight loss, which will lead to my being able to kick the shit out of a marathon in a couple of years. But I am also a person who does well with goals and projects, so I’ve been scheming on what to do while I’m working on speed and fitness. I have a plan, but I’m not quite ready to put it out there yet. Soon, my pretties. Soon.
In addition to all my running plans, I continue to believe that I will increase the frequency of my blogging. That said, I’m a realist and I am going to be moving from my self-hosted to a free platform soon, so I don’t have to pay every month just to keep my content up. If you’re a subscriber, it is possible that this will affect my feeds and the delivery of my content to your inbox. I’ll keep you updated here and on Facebook, but if you don’t hear from me for a long time, check in to see if I’ve moved.
I have wanted a new tattoo for a long time. I’ve had ideas for different elements of it dating back for years, but the idea coalesced only in the last couple of years. I have a rule that I have to want a specific tattoo for a year before I am allowed to get it. This prevents me from listening to my impulsive mind and then cursing Past Jean in three months when I no longer think a rash tattoo decision was a good idea.
You know how Past Jean makes rash decisions. It’s a known thing.
Anyway, I finally had my idea and then it turns out that when I contacted tattoo artists back in April, no one could get me in until October when I had my consultation and then finally last Thursday when Fernando at British Ink gave me my tattoo.
I love it so much. Soooo much. It’s really pretty. AND he spelled every word correctly.
This tattoo is crammed full of symbolism and significance and I am about to tell you all about it, so read on if you’re interested and know that if you’re not interested and stop reading here, you won’t miss all that much.
The song lyric there is from Bob Dylan’s “Tangled Up In Blue.” I love that song and I love that lyric, which, in its entirety, is, “The only thing I knew how to do was to keep on keepin’ on like a bird that flew.” (Hence the bird.) I think that keepin’ on is a nice encouragement to have on my arm where I can see it whenever I want to. I’m very pleased with the first words I’ve chosen to put on my person.
I knew that I wanted a bird, but i had to decide what bird. I considered a hummingbird, but apparently hummingbirds are kinda assholes and no matter how fitting that might seem and how pretty they are, I decided against them. I ended up looking for symbolism in birds and found that the chickadee has some nice symbolism, at least according to this one obscure website I found.
I especially like the part about being happy in the self, which is what I was going for with my design. Which leads me to why I chose a negative space bird instead of having Fernando actually ink the bird. That space represents a Stimey-shaped space for me in the world. That was inspired by Tom Petty’s song “You Don’t Know How it Feels,” in which he sings, “Think of me what you will, I’ve got a little space to fill.”
Plus I found this great shot of a chickadee that was perfect for my purposes.
I knew that I wanted to get three birds to represent my three kids. They are not negative space because I wanted to show that they are like me, but they are their own people. I knew I wanted Alex in there too, but wasn’t sure how to do it. I asked Fernando and after I told him a little bit about Alex, especially his love of music and concerts, he suggested the music notes. Perfect!
The colors are because they are pretty and also because they include colors from all over the spectrum, which has all kinds of happy connotations.
If you’re not into symbolism, it’s also just a pretty bird. So it has that going for it.
The tattoo is currently wrapped in some sort of plastic until Monday, so it’s not at its best. I’m looking forward to unwrapping and washing it.
It is always a little scary to get a new tattoo. No matter how much you have thought about it, it’s a big deal, especially when it is someplace so visible. Also, since I haven’t gotten a tattoo for 20 years, I was worried that I might have wussified in the intervening years and not be able to handle the needles. Turns out I’m just as tough now as I was then. Yay, me!
I couldn’t be happier with my result. Fernando really listened to me and worked hard to make sure I got what I wanted. He was really nice too. I wholeheartedly recommend him.
I’m also starting the clock for my next tattoo. I’ll tell you all about it in a year (or two or three).
or, if you want to be dramatic about the whole thing: Stimey Versus the Marathon.
Hey guys! I ran myself a marathon a couple weeks ago! I gotta tell you, I really did learn some things about marathons during this race. I also learned some things about myself. And I learned some things about marathons as they relate to myself. It was quite a mental journey.
If I had a bucket list, the Marine Corps Marathon would have been on it. My dad and my uncle were both marines and I have a fondness for that military branch. Plus, it’s a big, local marathon that takes runners sightseeing all over DC. I have wanted to run this race for a long time, so after I ran the Houston Marathon and was looking to do another one, hopefully faster and better, MCM was a natural choice. What could possibly go wrong?
My hope and goal going into this marathon was to not have to take walk breaks (other than through water stops, because I ALWAYS walk through water stops) and to hopefully finish it faster than I finished Houston.
Neither of those things happened. And I’m okay with that. I finished in 6:14:53 and I took a lot of walk breaks. Frankly, after about mile 15, I shuffled through the last 11 miles, either at a walk or a slow run. One of the things I learned about myself is that I am a person who, at this point in my running career, cannot run a marathon without taking walk breaks and that is GREAT. Because I have finished two marathons and I feel pretty darn good about that.
Let me start at the beginning.
Even getting to the start of the marathon was an ordeal. The Metro opened at 6am and I was on a train at 6:05. Trouble started when I and 80 gajillion of my closest friends got off the train at the Pentagon and tried to get up the escalators from the train platform. It took at least 15 minutes to do that, and the lines continued from there.
By the time I got to the pre-race runners’ village, it was well after 7 and every line for the porta potties was long enough to make me late to the start line. I had read the race booklet though, because I’m a nerd like that, and it said there were “150 lesser used” porta potties on the road where they start the race. I crossed my fingers and continued up the road, hoping they weren’t lying to me. Happily, the race booklet was right and I only had to wait behind about five people. I was very pleased with myself and also very relieved that I didn’t have to run a marathon with, like, 40 ounces of liquid sloshing around my insides.
I wormed my way up to the start line by 7:40, a full 15 minutes before the race was supposed to start. It was not a stress free or relaxing start to my day. But at least I wasn’t sweaty yet. Much.
There are three time cutoffs in the MCM (mile 17 at about 4-1/2 hours, mile 20 at 5-1/4 hours, and mile 22 at 5-3/4 hours). I was pretty sure that, barring disaster, I would make these cutoffs pretty easily. I was, however, worried that it would take me half an hour to get over the start line because I was in the back of the pack and that time would get me DNFed. Happily, things went smoothly, and even though they started the race ten minutes late, I was over the start in just a few minutes.
After I crossed the start line, I ran for six and a quarter hours and then I finished. The end.
But there’s some truth to that. I spent a lot of time in my head during this race. My only constant was continued forward motion—except for that time I dropped my Clif Bloks and had to run backwards to pick them up. Otherwise, it was one foot in front of the other over and over and over.
This will sound obvious to all of you, but it hit me hard at about mile ten: Marathons are long. I felt tired pretty early on, but I’ve run tired before. It was fun to run down into Hains Point because that was the location of my first 10K almost exactly four years ago. Hains Point is also the location of the wear blue mile honoring fallen service members, which is really quite an amazing thing. I have never run a mile in a race where it was so quiet.
After all of that, you get to the halfway mark, which is great because then at that point you’re all in because it’s too late to turn around and walk back. (<—joke) Actually what the halfway mark means is that then you have to do what you’ve just done…again. But! Every step after the halfway mark is taken on the down side of the mileage.
Well. It made sense to me. There are all kinds of mind games I play with myself on long runs.
I ran for something like 16 years to get off of the peninsula. I knew that the national mall section was coming up and I was looking forward to that, but I forgot the two-something additional miles down and back Independence Avenue before that. I’m pretty sure there were monuments and views to look at, but I didn’t see any of that. (See: “I spent a lot of time in my head.”) I think it was in this area that I took my first walk break.
After that, I ran up and down the shaft of the race. (see map)
The shaft portion was tough. I had expected to be a little more excited about running around the mall and past the Capitol, but mostly I was just tired and parts of my body were trying to cramp up, which is not something I usually experience. I stopped to stretch a few times, but I would, like, stretch my hamstring and my quad would seize up. At one point later in the race, I was moving from a walk to a run and my ankle tried to cramp. My ANKLE. I didn’t even know that could happen.
None of that is evident from this oddly cheerful photo though.
Mile 20 is where you “Beat the Bridge,” meaning you cross over the 14th Street Bridge before the cutoff. People were very pleased to have made it.
A woman right behind me stopped suddenly with a cry of pain and I turned around and asked her if she was okay and she gave me this quizzical look and I was all, “I mean, you know,” and gestured at the road indicating the base level of suffering I was hoping she hadn’t crossed. This woman had zero words she could formulate about her state of being, but she nodded, so I carried on.
It was right around here that I determined that because I wasn’t going to win any land-speed records—or even Jean-speed records—that I was going to be cheerful and make jokes and generally try to have a good time for the rest of the race and not worry about my time at all. I figured I could kill myself trying to shave 15 minutes off of my time or I could enjoy myself—you know, to the extent that you can enjoy the last 10K of a marathon.
I was taking significant walk breaks by this time and I was not alone. It seemed like most people were doing the same. The last cutoff point was at mile 22. After that, I heard some people who were all, “Now we can walk the rest of the way. We did it!” Frankly, by the end of the race back at my end, many people didn’t seem to be doing any running at all, which was gratifying because I got to pass them. You know, verrrrryy slooooowly.
The bridge and subsequent descent into Crystal City was kinda brutal. It was HOT by this time and there was no shade. A marine was encouraging us by claiming that there was shade and water up ahead. He was right, and even better than that, there was also a fire hose spraying water into the air that we could run through. That was fantastic. There were maybe three or four of those in the next few miles, but one of them was on the far outside of a corner instead of the inside and after much internal debate I decided that I didn’t want to run the extra 20 feet, so I skipped it. I ran through the rest of them though.
Crystal City really pulled it out for us. Some lady gave me a handful of ice and at first I was all, “I really only need one of these, what am I going to do with the rest?” and then I discovered that each ice cube actually had four uses: (1) keeping my hand cool, (2) keeping my forehead cool when I wiped it with the ice cube, (3) cooling off the inside of me when I put it in my mouth, and (4) making me less thirsty. I realized at this point that I had lost all sense of personal hygiene (yes, I’ll wipe that on my body then eat it) and also, damn, I had been really hot. That ice pepped me up enough that I ran at a reasonable pace for a decent chunk of time.
A kid gave me a tiny cup of ice cubes later on and when I still had some ice in there, a different woman filled it with water and I had maybe two swallows of ice water at mile 23 and it was DIVINE.
After that, it was just a matter of slugging it out to the end along a long, hot road.
I amused myself by making little quips to other runners. (“Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch,” I told one woman I passed. “All the things on me hurt,” I said to a cheering bystander as I gestured at myself from head to toe. “If my watch says 26.2, does that mean I can stop?” I asked another, who told me her watch said the same thing. And so on.) There were others who were doing the same, and I found it very endearing.
The last quarter of a mile or so involves a left turn up a hill and then a flat tenth of a mile or so through the finish line. I didn’t sprint the hill or anything, but I have never felt a hill less. At this point, there was nothing that could put me through more exertion. Plus, I knew once I hit the finish line, I could stop running.
There was a long line of marines standing in a line after the finish line giving high fives and handshakes to finishers. It was really cool. Although I think part of their purpose was to distract us from the long walk we had to make to the finish festival.
Before we left the finish area, there were marines giving out medals. But they weren’t just handing them to finishers. The woman who gave me mine put it over my head and then saluted me. It was quite a moment. A marine…saluting me. I felt pretty honored.
Alex met me at the finish to drive me home, thank God, because I can’t even imagine standing in the line to catch a bus back to a metro station and then sitting on a train with all my sweatiest buddies. I ran 26.2 (or 26.73 according to my Garmin, but who’s quibbling?) miles, but Alex drove me home and he’s kind of a hero for that. He did make me walk up a hill to get to the car and he did walk faster than me, forcing me to hobble to keep up with him, but that’s okay. Also, like, three body parts seized up on me when I got into the car and I had to contort into a plank position in the seat to work all the cramps out.
And that was the 2017 Marine Corps Marathon. It was a journey, both literal and metaphorical. Like, I said, I learned that it’s okay for me to walk during a marathon and I don’t feel the slightest bit bad about it. I also learned that if you ever ask me how a marathon is, I will answer you by saying “hard.” Always and forever. Marathons are no goddamn joke. Another lesson was to get out of my head and focus on the experience, something I intended to do going into the race, but only managed to do for some of the miles.
Another very important thing I learned is that my body did the absolute best it could do at this distance. I realize that at my body weight and fitness level, I am not going to be running any speedier marathons any time soon. I think I might work on those things for a while and then maybe run another marathon in two or three years. I’m not saying never again, but I also know that two marathon training cycles basically on top of each other kinda wrecked me and I need to put in some serious work on myself before attempting it again.
Lastly, I learned that it is a good idea to buy a sweatshirt with an ostentatious marathon logo on it for two reasons. First, because if you spend a million dollars on a hoodie at the expo, you will finish the goddamn race so you can legitimately wear the thing.
And, second, because if you wear it, people ask you if you ran a marathon. And you get to say yes. And they don’t care that it took you more than six hours. And you don’t really care either. And everyone feels good about the accomplishment that you achieved. No one more than you.
Gosh, you guys, it’s been a while. I’ve been trying to write this post for a couple of weeks now and I keep getting hung up on trying to recap stuff I haven’t told you. So how about I don’t do that and just plow on ahead?
Now that my kids are back in school and I don’t have to deal with (as much) working mom guilt and marathon-training mom guilt, I’m hoping to have time to write a little more. (Ha! You’ve heard that before, haven’t you?)
Anywho, things are going well. Alex and the munchkins are good, we went to see the total eclipse, we destroyed the lives of another group of ants in an ant farm, and I’ve been enjoying the golden age of television. Maybe I’ll write about some of that soon. Hopefully not the television part.
Mostly it feels like I’ve been running all the time. I only have about a month until my marathon and then I might take up another sport. Like competitive potato chip eating. If I suggest that I run another marathon in the near future, you have my full permission to hold some type of intervention. This intervention would probably have to include Alex, who is tired of coming to pick me up after I run 15 miles in one direction and then call him for help because I’m too sweaty to get into an Uber.
That said, Alex has been kind of killing it in terms of his own running goals. I had a 20-mile race that I wanted to run last weekend and they have a 10-mile one at the same time, so I talked him into doing the ten-miler. He did a great job training for it, although when I reminded him the night before the race that in 12 hours we’d be setting off from the start line, he gave me the angriest look I’d ever seen him give me. It looked like he wanted to punch me. You know how Past Jean always screws Present Jean? Well this time she also screwed Present Alex.
Although she was also the impetus for Alex’s triumphant finish of a ten-mile race as well. So, kudos, Past Jean. Also, kudos to Rock Star Alex. He really did an amazing job. I’m super proud of him.
I also triumphantly finished my 20-miler by running my last mile faster than any of the prior six or so because I so desperately wanted to get to the finish line and sit down. I accomplished my goal though, which was to run the whole thing (except for water stops, which I always walk through), so I feel good about that. This course gave me a good idea of what to expect out of myself under race conditions. For example, I learned that for my marathon, I am not setting any time goals other than to go faster than the race cutoff. My sole goal is to grind through 26.2 miles without walk breaks. (I’m not against walk breaks, but I want to prove to myself that I can run the whole thing.)
I did take one, brief unscheduled break during my run to witness the brutality of nature. I almost never stop to take photos during races, but this one demanded it. Squeamish people who love deer, look away.
I also ran a half marathon the week prior to the 20-miler. I signed my entire family up to volunteer at the 9-mile water stop, so they were forced to be there to encourage me. I liked that. I should sign them up to volunteer at all my races. Perhaps their radiant love gave me a speed boost because I beat my best half marathon time by 21 seconds. That’s right—twenty. one. (<— I’m mocking myself here, but I’m still putting a little star by my results in my races list.)
Alrighty, then. Here’s hoping I’ll be back before too much time elapses. I hope you all are doing well.
I ran Riley’s Rumble Half Marathon last Sunday. I registered for it in a bout of optimism last March after successfully running a long, hilly race. I read, “Do you love running hills? Do you love running in summer heat? Does the DC area humidity inspire you to get out and sweat it out?” on the race description page and was all, “THIS IS THE RACE FOR ME!”
Just as a point of order, I don’t love hills, summer heat, OR humidity. But I guess Past Jean thought I did.
See, I am running the Marine Corps Marathon this fall and I figured that if I couldn’t do a tough half marathon in July, I had no business running MCM in October.
I ended up running just about 12 minute miles (I actually finished with the 12 minute pace group) at two hours and 39 minutes.
I was pretty happy with my time, especially considering the elevation, which consisted of more than 700 feet of elevation gain and nearly that same number of feet of elevation loss. I will run a flatter half marathon in September that will probably give me a better idea about my MCM pace estimate.
I don’t think there was any flat ground. You might notice that long climb right at the end of the race. You might assume that it sucked. You’d be right.
I actually kinda really enjoyed this race. Maybe I DO like running hills. See, with uphills come downhills. Not to mention that it is more interesting to run rolling terrain than flat. And the course was really gorgeous. Also, due to Apple’s decision to make their new iPhone headphone jack-less and my absentmindedness regarding remembering to bring my adapter, I ran completely without music other than birdsong.
It was really sort of delightful. The race was on small roads surrounded by greenery, the sound of birds, and other interesting runners to eavesdrop on. Often on long runs, I am super focused on the distance that I’ve run, but at this race I just relaxed into it and kept on keepin’ on.
See how beautiful?
Riley’s Rumble provides sport popsicles at mid-race. That was awesome. Although I created a whole thing because I skipped the first few people and then when I demanded a cherry popsicle from the guy on the end, he only had other flavors and there was much flapping around (by me) and rushing for a cherry popsicle (by him) and I forgot to say thank you, so let’s consider this my heartfelt thank you because that popsicle was Good.
Speaking of popsicles, this race takes place at the end of July in the DC area, so it is generally super hot and humid. This year, however, the weather was gorgeous. It could not have been more suited for running. Also, much of the course was shady. (See above.) Humidity could have been a killer though. We got lucky.
I felt pretty good throughout the race, although I was definitely aware of how hard my legs were working. I’m trying to do less shuffling through races and more pushing myself during them, so I tried to keep attention on how I was running and how much energy I could expend.
At one point, on a kinda sucky uphill prior to the big one at 11 miles, I modified the running adage “run the mile you’re in” to “run the hill you’re in,” in an effort to focus on doing my best without despairing over the elevation to come. I gotta say, it worked.
I hadn’t managed to convince any of my running friends to run the half marathon with me, but there was an 8K race as well and my friends Lyda and Bob signed up for that one. The distance was shorter, but they still got to run the really crappy hills at the beginning and end, so you can feel reassured that they got their workouts in.
After their races, they stuck around for, like, an hour and a half to cheer me in. They even made a sign for me. I cannot tell you how awesome it was to see them. I was even inspired enough to ramp it up and pass two more runners between seeing them and the finish line. I wasn’t quite able to pass the 12-minute mile pace team (who had obviously trained together), but because I finished with them, I get to be the interloper in all their triumphant finish line photos.
Had you asked me at mile 12 if I was interested in running this thing again, I might have looked at you askance as I muttered “you can do it you can do it you can do it” to myself. In the afterglow of success, however, I could be talked into it.
I just hope Future Jean remembers that the Riley’s Rumble course is no joke if she decides to sign up. Fun, challenging, beautiful, popsicle-filled…but no joke.
On to the next one.
On days when I work and my kids are home, I give them a schedule with little assignments. Mainstays of the assignments are a daily sports and art task. I’m here to tell you about today’s art, but I feel like I should also
mention brag that today was a free choice sports day and they chose, “clean the TV room and office” as their sports activity.
My kids totally won today.
(Alex was home for part of the day, so he might have encouraged that particular endeavor, but still.)
Okay. For art today, on my way out the door, I scribbled “draw a president” on their schedule because I was (a) out of ideas, and (b) I was curious what such an open-ended assignment would lead to.
I’m not going to show you the one obscene Trump picture that one of my kids drew—suffice it to say that it featured an orange toupee on a part of the anatomy that doesn’t normally sport toupees. I laughed hard.
That aside, here are my kids’ president drawings in descending order of the artist’s age:
Katie was all, “Do you see the curls on his wig?” and I told her I did and asked why she chose John Adams and she said it was because he was the only president she could think of with the curls. Then I noted that he looks very sad and she said that it’s because he was a crappy president. I think she’s been listening to too much Hamilton.
Me = blown away. I had no idea that Grover Cleveland was crawling around in Jack’s brain. I asked him why he chose Cleveland and he said, “Because he was the 22nd and 24th president,” as if that answered all of my questions. (It did not.)
That is a tangerine with an orange toupee. Three guesses which president he chose. Although we watched The Lego Movie later today and he expressed regret that he hadn’t drawn President Business, and I mentally expressed regret that the country didn’t vote for President Business, Kraggle and all.
My kids. They’re hilarious. Their brains are these wonderful little mazes of creativity. I highly recommend assigning your kids weird art projects. You never know what they’re going to come up with.